


Extremely Specific

by queercapwriting (queergirlwriting)



Series: Where's Your Head At? [14]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, bbies, bi!carol danvers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queergirlwriting/pseuds/queercapwriting
Summary: anonymous asked:Cap, I've struggled with my own internalized Biphobia over the years. I was wondering if you could do a fic of Carol coming to terms with her own bisexuality ? Maybe with some help, if you'd like? I'm not picky.(prompt is from my tumblr @queercapwriting)





	Extremely Specific

She didn’t think about it a lot; labels.

Because there were plenty horrible ones for her, and plenty more horrible ones for Maria. Plenty horrible ones for the two of them spending so much time together, for the two of them all but raising a daughter together; for the two of them loving, existing, together.

So labels weren’t things she was deeply invested in.

Higher further faster was a way of life, a code, an ethic, a promise.

Not a label.

She and Maria didn’t need a label. 

Because she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the things that Maria felt for her, every single time she looked into her eyes. And she knew Maria knew the same.

She knew she loved Monica like her own daughter, and she knew Maria considered herself a single parent in label only.

Labels.

Who needed them?

Except, sometimes, she did. Because sometimes, they got stifling, and the assumptions got painful, and the utter confusion at the way you breathe your oxygen got infuriating beyond belief.

So she needed, sometimes, labels for herself, so others wouldn’t insist on pinning her with their own.

But she hated herself for it. With this particular label.

Bisexual.

Pretty white blonde girl in love with a gorgeous Black woman. Except whenever she was out on her own, men assumed what she wanted, and who she wanted it from.

She didn’t need bisexual thrown in the mix. She’d grown up on too many accusations of the need to pick a side, to stop trying to be trendy, to make up her mind already, to stop taking up space where she didn’t belong.

The thing was, though, that Carol Danvers didn’t ever beg for invitations to know when she belonged somewhere.

She belonged in Maria’s arms, and Maria in hers; and if she also had slept with men, and enjoyed it, or could find a deep-seated appreciation and arousal at, say, a certain War Machine when the time came, that didn’t mean she belonged any less in Maria’s arms. 

Or that she belonged any less in women’s spaces, devoted to loving women. 

Or that she belonged any less in flirtations with men, or pleasant recollections of ex boyfriends (the ones that she didn’t leave because she never should have gotten with them to begin with).

She belonged exactly where she knew she belonged.

Right?

“Where’s your head at?” Maria crawled into bed beside her and asked, because somehow, Maria always knew.

“Labels are stupid,” was all she muttered, but she relished the way Maria’s eyes went all thoughtful.

“Yeah,” she agreed after a long minute, “when they’re not killing us they’re keeping us alive.”

“Truth. And it, I dunno. Whatever.”

“You still thinking about what that girl at Pancho’s said to you last week? About making up your mind?”

“Well, I sure made up my mind that she’s an ignorant jerk.”

Maria snuggled into her, and Carol’s body immediately relaxed.

“Well, we already knew that. She really got to you, didn’t she baby?”

Carol rolled her eyes, more at herself than at Maria. Maria knew, and she waited.

“It’s stupid, right? I can have a dog fight at 8,000 feet and not break a sweat, but some drunk college kid who wasn’t even trying to make me feel bad makes me spin out? How stupid’s that?”

“It’s not,” Maria said simply, because when she talked, Carol listened. It didn’t take all that many words. “It’s not stupid at all. But it’s clearly bothering you. And that’s okay.”

“Eh.”

“Alright, different tactic. Got it.” Maria squinted her eyes in thought, and Carol kissed her nose, because god, was she cute when she was in problem-solving mode. “When I told you I’d slept with Monica’s father, did you hate me?”

“God, no.”

“Did you think I loved women any less? Or that I’d been repulsed by him and had just been faking it for some kick?”

“No. I thought we were going to have a baby.”

Maria leaned forward and kissed Carol’s mouth. It tasted like heaven and past, present, and future.

“Exactly. I know it’s hard, baby, but you’ve gotta try being as kind and defensive of yourself as you are to my women-loving bisexual ass.”

“I love your ass.”

Maria nodded like she’d emerged triumphant from a battle to the death. “Exactly.”

“So… because I love my girlfriend’s ass… I should…”

“Accept that internalized biphobia is real as shit and you’ve gotta be stronger than it because it doesn’t deserve your attention, and if you’re gonna give it your attention you gotta know that you’re not alone because Lieutenant Trouble and I love you more than anything in this universe?”

“That was extremely specific.”

“I’m an extremely specific woman.”

“I love you.”

“I know. And I love you. All of you, Carol flannel-wearing-motorcycle-riding-all-you-need-is-a-bob-haircut Bisexual Danvers.”

“Well. I guess that’s okay then,” Carol smirked that smirk that she knew drove Maria out of her mind. 

And sure enough, Maria’s mouth was on hers before she had the chance to say, again and again and again, just how much she loved her.


End file.
